


A Staircase Love Story

by LittleRose13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Muggle AU, Neighbours, Scorbus Secret Santa, albus pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:57:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleRose13/pseuds/LittleRose13
Summary: Albus cleared his throat, completely thrown off by this girl’s sudden apparent existence. “Hi, yes I do. Is, er, is Scorpius home?”The girl’s expression softened. “No, it’s student night at the museum so he’s working, he should be back in about an hour. Are you two going out somewhere then?””No,” Albus squeaked, thinking of the pile of marking he had waiting for him tonight. He consulted the letter in his hand. “I just… got some of his post. By mistake. I live at number twelve, he lives at number twenty-one, it’s an easy mistake to make.”Written for the Scorbus Secret Santa for the wonderful mavisbluemoon!





	A Staircase Love Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mavisbluemoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mavisbluemoon/gifts).



Albus Potter looked into the mirror above the fireplace, moving his hair around with one hand and considering the results. He directed it over to one side, where it sort of stuck up diagonally, then he sighed and pushed it all into his face. As nonchalantly as possible, he ran his hand through it, trying not to put too much thought into the action and just casually brushing it back from his eyes. He’d seen James do it a million times and it somehow always looked effortlessly cool.

It did not look effortlessly cool on Albus’ hair and instead looked like he’d just woken up from a long nap pressed up against a window. He sighed and shoved his bobble hat back on, the cause of his hair’s particular difficulty that day anyway. It had been freezing and he’d been on playground duty, where his poor ears would never have survived had he exposed them to the weather. 

Yes, he looked alright. Not perfect, not anything special, he wasn’t about to be asked to pose for the cover of Men’s Health like James, but good enough. Albus didn’t consider himself unattractive, but he also wasn’t some kind of Adonis with hoards of admirers, again, like James. No, the closest thing Albus had to admirers was a little group of girls in year four who had taken to leaving him handwritten notes on his desk.  _ Mr Poter, you are a good teecher and we like your tatoo.  _

He looked okay. He dressed in colours he was pretty sure suited him, he always tried to smile at people, he had a fairly trendy hairstyle, he quite liked his eyes.

Not that anyone had gotten close enough to really appreciate Albus’ eyes in recent months. 

His sister, Lily told him he was on his way to becoming what she called  _ full hipster.  _ She said, once he got enough tattoos to have a proper sleeve, he’d be there but that his messy hair, well-groomed beard and thick, square glasses were  _ a strong start.  _ The kids in Albus’ class told him he  _ always wore nice jumpers and shirts  _ and that his beard was  _ cooler than Mr Brinkworth’s.  _ James told him he looked like a prat and needed a haircut. 

Albus took a bigger than necessary breath and stepped out of his flat, the letter clutched in his hand. Instead of the familiar route straight down the stairs, he ventured up and onto the second floor of the building. It was almost identical to the first floor where he lived, apart from there were more Christmas wreaths on the doors here. 

He bypassed his upstairs neighbour, Mr Parsons, at number twenty-two, and stopped in front of twenty-one, his destination. It had been unoccupied for many months, but a new resident had moved in on the first day of December. Albus shuffled his feet and straightened his hat, he pushed his glasses further up his nose and ran through his prepared words in his head again, knocking smartly on the door. 

_ I think our postman must be dyslexic. Your post was delivered to me again. _

Bollocks, what if he knew someone who was dyslexic and Albus offended him? What if he  _ himself  _ was dyslexic? Was that rude? Josh, in Albus’ class, was dyslexic and he was constantly using the fact to crack jokes about himself ( _ you can’t ask me to tidy the book corner, Mr Potter, I’m dyslexic)  _ but that might have been unique to Josh. 

The door opened and Albus felt his heart skip a beat, ready. 

But on the other side was a very pretty, pale skinned girl with long, dark hair, a bright and even smile and long, thick eyelashes surrounding her dark and interesting eyes. She was in a silky, pale pink dressing gown and her feet were bare. She smiled politely. “Hi, everything okay? You live downstairs, don’t you?”

Albus cleared his throat, completely thrown off by this girl’s sudden apparent existence. “Hi, yes I do. Is, er, is Scorpius home?”

The girl’s expression softened. “No, it’s student night at the museum so he’s working, he should be back in about an hour. Are you two going out somewhere then?”

“No,” Albus squeaked, thinking of the pile of marking he had waiting for him tonight. He consulted the letter in his hand. “I just… got some of his post. By mistake. I live at number twelve, he lives at number twenty-one, it’s an easy mistake to make.” 

“Oh.” The girl looked faintly disappointed and she reached for the letter. “I thought you were his new friend.”

“Er, don’t think so,” Albus said uncomfortably.

“He’s got this  _ new friend,”  _ she said, as if Scorpius were a toddler, “and he won’t even tell  _ me _ who they are or how he knows them, just keeps mentioning them in conversation. He thinks I haven’t noticed, but I know him too well for us to have secrets.” 

The girl seemed remarkably chilled about her boyfriend keeping a secret ‘new friend’ from her. Albus wasn’t really sure how he was supposed to respond to all of that; he settled for grinning nervously.

“Listen to me, harping on. I haven’t even asked your name!” 

“Al, Albus, I’m Al,” he stuttered out. 

“Nice to meet you, Al. I’m Scarlett. How  _ do  _ you know Scorpius then?”

Albus felt his cheeks turn pink. “I don’t really  _ know  _ him. I just know his name, from… the post.” He pointed to the letter in her hand. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your evening.” 

“It’s no trouble,” the girl waved a hand casually. “I was just about to have a shower.”

“Er, oh. Were you?” Albus said lamely. 

“You should come round for a drink some time, when Scorpius is here too! We’d love to get to know our neighbours a bit better.” 

_ Our  _ neighbours. Their shared neighbours, because Scorpius didn’t, as it turned out, live here on his own like Albus thought. He was feeling more and more stupid by the second. 

“Thanks, er, I’d love to. Well-“

He’d been about to say  _ I’ll let you get on _ but the girl had other ideas and leaned against her door frame casually. “What do you do then, Al? I’ve seen you leaving really early in the morning and always wondered.”

Albus smiled. “Oh, I’m a teacher, at Willow Park, round the corner.”

“Is that a secondary school?”

“No, no, it’s a primary school. I teach year six,” Albus grinned. “So it’s lots of prep for their SATs at the end of the year but they’re old enough to have a real laugh with. My class are the best, they make the long hours worth it.”

Albus realised he’d been talking for quite a while and he suddenly worried he was boring the girl, who had probably just been being polite. He cleared his throat awkwardly but she smiled with interest. 

“A teacher, interesting. Scorpius was convinced you were a personal trainer at that gym around the corner, he even thought about signing up.” She said this like it was a throwaway comment.

“Oh!” Albus was struck slightly dumb by the implications of this. “Er, no, I’m not a personal trainer. It’s funny you should say that though, that’s what my brother does. Maybe, um, Scorpius was thinking of him?” 

Albus’ brother was quite well known for being far too muscly and posting videos of himself at the gym on Instagram. He’d found a passion in training others, had released his own trademarked workout and meal plan and he liked to lecture Albus about the macronutrients of the dinners he cooked with their dad on Sunday nights. 

“No, he definitely meant you,” Scarlett said evenly. “Anyway, pop over whenever you like! We really must get to know each other more. Feel free to bring your boyfriend or girlfriend or whoever too.”

The closest thing Albus had had to a  _ boyfriend  _ in the last year was a man called Nigel he’d met at an exam marking conference at the end of the last school year. They’d exchanged numbers, texted back and forth and been on three okay dates before Albus realised he’d forgotten to text back after the third date. According to Lily, he’d  _ ghosted  _ Nigel, but she’d stolen his phone when he’d suggested he text and apologise for doing so. 

Albus snorted. “No boyfriend, just me.” 

“Hello,” said a friendly voice from behind Albus, making him spin on the spot in shock which he quickly tried to mask. It was  _ him,  _ looking all windswept and handsome, his blond hair sweeping across his forehead and a charcoal grey winter cape type thing wrapped artfully around his shoulders. 

And he’d just walked up behind Albus telling his girlfriend how single he was, complete with added disbelieving laugh. 

“Nice to see you again, Albus. How was your day?” Scorpius said, as if a) they were good friends and b) it was normal to have lengthy, casual conversations in the doorway of his flat.

“Yes, um, my day was fine, thank you,” Albus said quietly. “The Christmas play songs will never leave my head, but at least the kids sort of know the words now.” He laughed heartily for some reason. Then his face paled when he realised how oddly out of context that was to say to someone who thought he was a personal trainer. 

“I love Christmas songs.” Scorpius joined in with a genuine chuckle; his nose crinkled adorably. “I see you’ve met Scarlett then.”

“Hey, Scorp, get this,” she lightly touched his arm, “he’s not a personal trainer, he’s a  _ teacher.”  _

Scorpius blinked at her. “I know. At Willow Park Primary.” 

“How did you know that?” Albus said at exactly the same time as Scarlett.

“I handle school trip bookings at the museum, I thought it was unlikely there was another Albus Potter.” 

“You work at the British Museum?” 

“I manage an entire  _ floor  _ of the British Museum,” Scorpius said proudly, folding back his cloak to reveal a shiny, gold name badge. It read:  _ Scorpius H Malfoy, Collection Manager.  _

“Yours is much fancier than mine.” Albus held out his lanyard, on the end of which was his staff ID badge, containing a cheesy photo of him over two years ago when he’d first started teaching at the school.

Scorpius peered at it. “You look different.”

“Oh, yeah, I used to have long hair,” Albus shrugged. “But the early starts get to me enough without having to leave time for hair maintenance, so…” He mimed chopping off his hair, holding his fingers like scissors. 

“I think your hair is-“

“Keep that racket down!” Mr Parsons’ door opened so quickly he must have been hovering behind it, waiting. “Find somewhere else to stand around flirting, you’re letting all the cold air in.” 

Albus gaped like a goldfish, Scarlett snorted and Scorpius blushed faintly. 

“Well, I should go, lots of marking to do. I… you… there’s a letter for you, came to me, a letter.” Albus was barely stringing his sentences together. 

“Oh, thanks! I can’t believe how frequently that happens, that postman must be dyslexic.” Scorpius laughed and brushed past Albus to step inside.

“Don’t be a stranger, Al,” Scarlett smiled and pushed the door closed, behind which she was most likely thoroughly snogging Scorpius in greeting. Albus couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous.

Of course it was just Albus’ luck that potentially the most perfect boy he’d ever met was in a very serious and very heterosexual relationship with that pretty girl. He sighed heavily and trudged down the stairs and back to his flat, trying not to think about it at all. 

Almost as soon as he stepped through the door, Albus’ phone went off in his pocket, signalling that he had a text. He pulled it out and saw James’ name, followed by the message:  _ oi snekman, what the fuck are you getting Mum for Christmas? _

Upon realising Albus’ initials spelled  _ asp,  _ James had taken it upon himself to embrace any and all snake-related nicknames for his brother. At first, he just called him  _ Snakey  _ but that evolved into  _ Snake Eyes, Snake Boy, Slithersnake _ and a failed attempt to make  _ Aspy  _ catch on. Albus didn’t mind, it was funny at best and mildly annoying at worst, but then came the fateful day one summer when one of James’ friends had shown him some YouTube video containing hundreds of different ridiculous names for snakes.

Albus had to admit the video was quite funny, but James was gleeful, wasting no time in greeting Albus with “oi, Danger Noodle!” the next time he saw him. His favourite from the video was  _ Snek _ which quickly became  _ Snekman  _ and had ended up sticking into their adulthood. Albus was of the opinion that James sounded more stupid  _ using  _ this nickname than he did having it, so he let his brother get on with it.

He shot a quick text back ( _ I got her tickets to Beyoncé. No we can’t ‘make it a joint present’),  _ threw his phone down onto the sofa and sighed _ ,  _ running both hands over his face and groaning as he relived the interaction upstairs. It’s not like he’d had any reason to assume Scorpius was single, of course he wouldn’t be single, but it was still horribly disappointing to find out that his silly crush was now  _ completely  _ fruitless. 

* * *

The December weather had warmed up just a touch, which meant it was raining heavily all over London. Albus adjusted the carrier bag he’d tried to spread over the box of maths books he was carrying as he finally reached the dry sanctuary of the hall. The books rested on the floor while he took his glasses off, rubbed them somewhat dry with a corner of his jumper, and put them back on. His hair was dripping wet and his shoes were filled with puddles.

All in all, Albus wasn’t feeling his best so, naturally, the door opened again behind him.

Scorpius had his back to Albus, violently shaking his umbrella out onto the doorstep, wearing a deep red raincoat with what looked like matching wellington boots. Albus quickly tried to push his sopping hair from his eyes before Scorpius turned around. 

“Horrible out there, isn’t it?” Scorpius said, putting his umbrella down and closing the door. 

“I don’t know, you seem to have escaped the worst of it.” Albus pointed between Scorpius’ relatively dry, perfect blond hair and his own sodden mess.

“I’m getting you an umbrella for Christmas.” Scorpius reached out and  _ ruffled his hair.  _ “Don’t worry, still as stylish as ever.” 

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Albus muttered, turning to lift his stack of books up again. 

“Seriously, your hair always looks great. You must give me the name of your hairdresser,” Scorpius persisted, walking beside Albus towards the stairs. 

“Er, sure.” Albus tried not to blush. Scorpius liked his hair? Was he flirting?

“Scarlett’s been on at me to try a new style,” he chattered.

Of course she had. His girlfriend, Scarlett. Because Scorpius had a girlfriend, he wasn’t single and he wasn’t flirting with Albus. He was just being friendly. 

“You don’t drive to work then?” Albus commented to change the subject as they traipsed up the stairs together. What a stupid thing to ask anyway; hardly anyone drove anywhere in London. 

“No, the museum’s only a few streets away, I love walking!” Scorpius said brightly. “Even in the rain, when I’ve got my brolly.” He held his arm up from which his yellow umbrella was swinging. 

“That’s…” Albus hesitated, not wanting to sound strange. “That’s what  _ I  _ do. Walking to and from school is really the only time I get to myself.”

“Walking has actually been proven to release cortisol and lower stress levels, and of course it’s much better for the environment” Scorpius explained. “Plus, I can sing to myself and Scarlett can’t hear me,” he added with a chuckle.

Albus laughed. “Ah, the perks of living alone. Every shower is a karaoke extravaganza.”

Had he really just brought up the topic of him in the shower? 

Scorpius’ eyes lit up; he had nice eyes, like storm clouds. “Brilliant! The boys I dormed with at school used to harmonise and everything. I was an alto.” 

“You went to boarding school?” Albus stared as Scorpius nodded. “So did I!”

“No way! My school was in France,” Scorpius replied with a fond smile. “ _ Je suis né à Belgique.”  _

“Er, I’m sorry, my French is limited to  _ je voudrais une bière s’il-vous plaît.  _ Are you French, then?”

Now he thought about it, Scorpius did have a slight accent when he spoke. 

Scorpius shook his head with a slight chuckle. “No, Belgian. Well, half. My dad’s English, but he met my mum in Belgium and that’s where I grew up.”

“I’ve never been to Belgium.” Albus tried to think of something insightful to say. Belgium was famous for… tulips? No, that was Amsterdam.

“But you’ve been to France enough times to know how to order a beer?” Scorpius walked with a merry sort of skip in his step; of course he did. 

“Almost every summer when I was little,” Albus smiled. “I mean, I wasn’t ordering beers when I was little. Back then it was  _ je voudrais un orangina _ and… and I don’t know why I’m telling you that, sorry.” He laughed lightly and absent mindedly stroked his beard. 

“But I’m interested!” Scorpius said, brushing his arm against Albus’, probably by accident. “Where in France did you used to stay?” 

“Aigues-Mortes, on the camargue.” 

“Did you see flamingos?” Scorpius burst with enthusiasm suddenly then seemed to catch himself. “Sorry, I went when I was about six and thought the flamingos were the most wonderful thing I’d ever seen.” 

Albus had to refrain from telling Scorpius how adorable he thought that was. He told himself that, if Scorpius were single, he would have been much braver with flirting, although he knew that was fairly untrue. James said he was a lost cause when it came to flirting. 

“I did see the flamingos,” Albus settled for instead. Nice and neutral thing to say to someone he was harbouring a huge crush on when that someone had a serious girlfriend. 

“Well you  _ must  _ visit Belgium some day! I’m planning a visit in March, you could come with me if you want!” 

Did Scorpius just… ask him on a trip to Belgium? Albus felt his ears burn and he hoped he hadn’t turned red. 

“No school holidays in March,” he shrugged. 

“Oh right, yes, of course.” Scorpius looked vaguely disappointed. “I forgot you were a teacher.  _ Mr Potter,” _ he said experimentally. 

Albus swallowed. If Scorpius said his name like that again he would find himself with a much more embarrassing problem than a bit of a red face.

“That’s me,” he managed to stutter out, adjusting his pile of books. 

“This looks fun,” Scorpius said, looking at the books too. “Nice and yellow.”

“Maths books,” Albus explained. “Comparing and ordering fractions, decimals and percentages. These are what my wild nights consist of.”

Scorpius snorted. “Wilder than mine. Scarlett wants to watch some programme called  _ Say Yes To The Dress  _ and I want to perfect my peppermint macaron recipe. If you want to join us, you’d be more than welcome.”

Albus couldn’t think of anything more awkward for him than a cosy television and baking night with Scorpius and his girlfriend. 

“Your lovely yellow books could be your plus one,” Scorpius urged after Albus didn’t say anything.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. I don’t want to intrude, besides, I’ve got a big gig coming up tonight. Me, the shower, my shampoo bottle. It’s going to be a sold out house.”

Albus vaguely wondered at what point in his life having a shower genuinely became an entire plan for the night. Probably around the time he became a teacher. 

“Damn, I missed out on a ticket,” Scorpius said, catching Albus’ eye and holding his gaze for a second. 

It was wholly unfair that on top of everything, Scorpius just seemed to be a naturally flirty person. If he knew how much he was torturing Albus…

Coughing uncomfortably, Albus rubbed the back of his neck. “Er, I hear they’re doing some work on the plumbing system soon.” 

Why on  _ Earth  _ was he talking about the bloody  _ plumbing system? _

“Mmmhmm,” Scorpius nodded. “So, what’s it like being a teacher? Do you enjoy it?”

Albus was momentarily thrown by his change of subject, but it was better than talking about the plumbing. He nodded his head. “Best job in the world. My class are such a laugh. There’s twenty-eight of them and they’re all genuinely the funniest kids I’ve ever met.”

“How old are they?”

“Year six, so they’re ten and eleven.”

“I can’t wait to meet them all when you come to the museum,” Scorpius beamed. 

“They’re all very excited. We’re starting a new topic on the Mayans in the new year, you see, so the trip is sort of a hook into the learning.”

“Ooh the Mayans! That sounds absolutely fascinating, I’d love to hear more about this topic some time.” 

“It’s based around… what?”

“Er, Albus, haven’t we passed your floor?”

Albus realised with a jolt that they were on the second floor already and he’d just continued walking past his flat, too busy chatting with Scorpius. 

“Er, yes.” Albus took hold of his stack of books and turned on his heel.

“Albus,” Scorpius called from his open doorway. “If you change your mind, you’re always welcome to pop up. Don’t want you getting lonely down there.” He smiled politely and pushed the door closed before Albus had a chance to say anything. 

* * *

Albus spent the weekend in a strange limbo between really not wanting to bump into Scorpius on the stairs again and also really quite wanting to talk to him more. He knew it was wrong, when he was so aware of his crush and Scorpius wasn’t single. But he couldn’t help hoping he would get a piece of Scorpius’ post by accident again as an excuse to go up.

It was Wednesday and Albus had stayed late at school to finish all his planning for the following week. He had a stack of SATs papers to mark and six sets of angel wings to make, so his hands were full with a large sack of feathers. It wasn’t Scorpius he bumped into this time but Scarlett.

She was frowning at something on the communal notice board and she hummed in thought, catching Albus’ eye as he entered the hall with his bag of feathers. 

“Look at this.” She beckoned him over and pointed at a bright pink piece of paper pinned to the board. 

_ Could all residents please be reminded that recycling is only collected every OTHER week. Do not leave recycling bins on the curbside if it is NOT a recycling week.  _

“That’s Mr Parsons, without a doubt,” Albus said confidently.

“Oh you mean Moany McNextDoor Grumpy-Pants?” Scarlett giggled. “Scorp and I both forgot his name.” 

“Accurate nickname,” Albus said. “He lives right above me, he’s always on at me to turn my music down. I’m convinced he’s lying on the floor with his ear pressed to the carpet, my music’s never loud.”

“Doesn’t really fit with the image of being a teacher, blasting your music to annoy the neighbours.” Scarlett chuckled to herself. “Then again, you don’t look like the typical teacher.”

“What should I look like?” Albus grinned, intrigued. 

“I don’t know, I think  _ teacher _ and I don’t think of tattoos and a beard and long hair.” Scarlett shrugged. “My boyfriend is thinking of doing a PGCE next year, becoming a teacher himself.”

Albus made a mental note to talk to Scorpius about this; in fact, he was surprised it hadn’t already come up in conversation. Scorpius would make a wonderful teacher, he was so passionate and enthusiastic about learning. Although Albus did think that some of the trickier kids in his school might eat Scorpius alive. 

“Tell him to go for it,” he said, picturing Scorpius in a smart shirt and tie and thinking he’d look really very good. 

Scarlett nodded. “So why is Mr Grumpy so incensed about the recycling bins?”

“I think he just likes having something to moan about,” Albus followed her to the stairs. “I’ve never noticed a recycling bin out on the wrong week causing a problem.”

“D’you know, Scorpius is always saying the council should collect recycling every week and landfill every other, to encourage people to recycle more.”

“He’s right, but they won’t do that.” 

“He wants us to be a  _ zero waste household _ ,” Scarlett explained. “You know, not throw anything away, buy in bulk with no packaging, avoid plastic.” 

“My sister’s trying for that too. She bought me this.” Albus held up his reusable coffee cup. “It’s actually made from old recycled coffee grounds believe it or not. It was my new year’s resolution last year to never buy coffee in a throwaway cup again.”

“Did you manage it?” Scarlett was eyeing Albus very strangely and he started to worry he’d said something wrong.

“More or less,” he shrugged. “Quite proud of myself, really.”

Scarlett was still giving him that strange look. “You should tell Scorp about that,” she said cryptically. 

“Er, sure. Well, I’ll see you later. Have a good evening.” 

He left her to keep climbing the stairs, wondering why she was acting so oddly all of a sudden. Albus unlocked the door to his flat and stepped onto the welcome mat, immediately hearing the sound of clattering and quiet, out-of-tune singing coming from his kitchen. That could only be one person.

“James! What have I told you about letting yourself in when I’m not here?”

James skidded into view with a wooden spoon in one hand and Albus’ apron on. “You said, do it?” 

“That key is for emergencies. What are you doing?” Albus dumped the bag of feathers and started hanging his coat and scarf up. 

“And hello to you too, dear brother.” James placed a hand over his heart. 

Albus fixed him with a stare. “Seriously, why are you here?” 

“Using your kitchen, Dad’s banned me.” 

Alongside his work as a personal trainer, James was currently living at home with their parents while he decided on where he wanted to settle down. Albus privately thought James seemed in no rush to settle on anywhere when their mum still did all his washing for him at home. 

“What got you banned?” 

“Not even anything, he was all annoyed because I used his good knife and apparently made it blunt. And I said he could just sharpen it and he told me I wasn’t allowed to cook there for a week.” 

Albus pressed a hand to his forehead. “What did you use the good knife for?” 

“I needed to cut some wood, and-“

“Wood? What the fuck, James?” 

“I wanted a shelf for my kettlebells,” he shrugged. 

“Well what are you cooking in my kitchen?” Albus lead the way, partly dreading what he might find. 

“Testing some recipes for my YouTube channel. These are sesame and peanut butter energy balls.” 

“What’s the video?” Albus stole a chocolate chip from a bowl James had out and popped it into his mouth. 

“Pre-workout snacks.” James opened Albus’ mug cupboard at random. “Do you have a whisk?”

“Second drawer down next to the oven,” Albus explained, grabbing two mugs while James had the cupboard open. “Tea? Coffee?”

“I’m good.” James pointed to a plastic flask filled with some kind of bright blue liquid. “Hitting the gym after this. Want to come?”

Albus actually laughed out loud. “Unlikely. I’ve got seventeen sets of practice SATs papers left to mark before the week is over. Want to help me out with the SPaG ones? They’re just ticking and crossing.” 

“No way,” James sang under his breath, whisking an egg he’d just cracked. 

“Fine, leave all the fun for me.” Albus rooted in his bag for the papers, thinking he may as well get a few done tonight.

James watched him haul the huge pile out onto the kitchen table. “You don’t get paid enough, Snekman.”

“Please write to my local MP and tell her that,” Albus laughed, already a page into the first paper. “Look at this,  _ circle the preposition in the sentence below _ , so they’ve circled the word  _ preposition  _ in the bloody question. Who is this?” He flipped the paper closed to check the name. “Artie, of course, he’s probably trying to be funny.” 

“Pretty funny,” James shrugged.

“Not when it brings my whole class’ average down.” Albus sighed and kept working through the paper, his green pen skidding across each mark box. “Would have been funnier if he’d circled the actual preposition in the question,” Albus muttered to himself. 

For a while, all that could be heard was the scratching of Albus’ pen and the clinking of James wooden spoon against the glass bowl he was mixing. Then James put the spoon down and sidled over to Albus at the table

“When are you coming out with me again? It’s been ages, Snekman,” James whined.

“That’s because you always go out on a Wednesday.” 

“So?”

“It’s a school night, I have work in the morning?” Albus said exasperatedly when this looked like an alien concept to James.

“You used to come out with me on a Wednesday all the time!”

“When I was a student!” Albus protested. “Do you know how early I have to get up? We don’t all have Thursdays off.” 

“Hey, I work Sundays instead,” James protested. “Anyway, next Friday, there’s a big event on at Pulse. Freddie can get us VIP, Teddy’s in. Please come, Al. It’s the Potter lads, on it!” 

“Which one’s Pulse? It’s not near Lola Los?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I once ran into a parent at Lola Los, it was awkward as fuck.”

“So does that mean you’re in?” 

Albus nodded. A night out could be fun, even if James’ idea of a successful night involved four different types of tequila. 

“Yes, Al!” James grabbed him around the neck and ruffled his hair. “Never know, you might even meet someone. You’re on the pull, aren’t you?”

Albus immediately thought of Scorpius and felt his stomach swoop, not that he could even consider trying to ‘pull’ Scorpius, who was straight, and had a girlfriend. 

“Friday, be ready for eight. We can pre at Teddy’s.” 

Later, James had left and Albus had spent his evening battling with a stapler and a hot glue gun, wondering why he’d been entrusted to make these angel wings. He waited for the click of the boiling kettle before pouring hot water into his favourite mug, a chamomile tea bag waiting. The mug had been a birthday present from Rose and her girlfriend a few years back and it said  _ The Tears of my Students _ . He watched the water turn the colour of the tea leaves. Usually, Albus was a strict coffee drinker but Lily had got him into this relaxing, herbal blend for the night time after Albus had complained of not being able to switch off and fall asleep. It seemed to help. 

 

He took a sip and shuffled in his slippers from the kitchen to his bedroom. His outfit for tomorrow was hanging on the front of his wardrobe (pale blue shirt, grey tie, usual smart black trousers) and his lunch was waiting in the fridge (a chicken salad sandwich, a packet of crisps, one of James’ energy balls and an apple). Albus lit a couple of candles beside his bed and flicked his light off, relaxing against the propped up pillows with his tea and a book ( _ Persuasion  _ by Jane Austen). 

Turning a page, Albus’ mind wandered to James’ visit earlier and his invitation to go out. Maybe it would be good to get out there and meet someone new. His relationship status was and had been pitifully single for far too long, and mooning over his very fit, very straight neighbour was hardly a productive thing to do. Albus sighed and shut his book, unable to concentrate. He extinguished his candles and flattened his pillows, settling in to sleep. 

That was when he first heard an unmistakable sound coming from the ceiling. 

The steady, rhythmic  _ thump, thump  _ of a headboard against a wall, the creaking of bed springs. A sound that was most definitely  _ not  _ coming from Mr Parsons’ flat, but his next door neighbour. 

Albus swallowed hard and tried his best to concentrate on falling asleep, determinedly screwing his eyes shut. The noise wasn’t loud as it was so far away, but now Albus had heard it, he couldn’t unhear it, and when a yelping scream which could only have been Scarlett confirmed all of his fears, he gritted his teeth hard.

The universe seemed to have it in for Albus Potter. What, it wasn’t enough that he had to have such a crush on the neighbour with a girlfriend he ran into all the time, now he had to actually listen to them having sex? He had to know that  _ Scorpius  _ was responsible for the rhythmic banging keeping him awake? 

He could stick in some earplugs and forget it had ever happened, but Albus’ subconscious had other ideas, flashing image after image of what he could only imagine Scorpius was up to. His lean body strong but fluid as he tensed and rippled his muscular frame; his icy blond hair falling desperately into his grey eyes; sweat glistening from his sharp cheekbones; his strong jawline bobbing as he moved furiously. 

Albus suddenly came to his senses and instantly felt ridiculous. The most aroused he’d been in months was listening to the distant sounds of his neighbour fucking his girlfriend, how sad was he? Red faced, heart pounding, Albus flicked his light back on and hopped into the shower to finish himself off.

* * *

Albus had his staff ID badge clamped between his teeth, his coat half on and yet another stack of books at his feet waiting to be picked up as he balanced his coffee cup under his arm so he could reach for his key to lock the door. His leather satchel swung precariously from his shoulder, threatening to spill his lunch out everywhere as Albus fumbled for his key.

“Need a hand?” a voice from the stairs at the end of the hall called out. Of course it was Scorpius, in a grey bobble hat and his wellington boots again. 

With both hands and his mouth full, Albus could only nod in acknowledgement of these words, which Scorpius took to mean yes, he did need a hand. He strode over immediately, a bright grin on his face. Albus desperately tried not think about what had happened last night as Scorpius got closer; he smelled good, some sort of expensive aftershave for sure. 

“Here.” Scorpius reached over and removed the badge from Albus’ mouth, then he held his hand out for the coffee cup. 

“Thanks.” Albus obliged and handed the coffee over, shrugging his coat on all the way and stowing his key away, before checking his door was locked. “Running late, in case it wasn’t obvious.” 

“You’re normally gone before me,” Scorpius nodded. Albus decided not to ask how he knew that. 

“Could barely keep my eyes open this morning, I didn’t sleep well.”  _ Because I was thinking about what it would be like to have sex with you,  _ he added in his head. 

“I didn’t get much sleep either.”

Albus tried to arrange his face into an expression of mild surprise and polite interest, as if he wasn’t already perfectly aware that Scorpius hadn’t slept much and he didn’t know exactly why that was. 

Scorpius looked at Albus’ coffee cup in his hand. “Is this one of those ones which is made of recycled coffee grounds?”

“Yes! How did you know that?” 

“I donated to the Kickstarter last year, I read the most  _ fascinating  _ article.” Scorpius sniffed the coffee and breathed deeply. “I don’t drink coffee but I think I might need some today.” 

Albus bit the inside of his lip, partly to stop himself laughing at the sheer absurdity of the situation. “Coffee is life. I’d offer to make you one, but-“

“You’re running late.” Scorpius smiled. “Coffee is life?” He gestured for them to walk towards the stairs together; Albus’ box of books (reading comprehension today) felt ridiculously bulky in his arms. 

“I couldn’t function without coffee,” Albus explained. “My brother calls me a coffee snob but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with preferring freshly ground espresso in my morning latte.”

“What’s the difference?” Scorpius looked lost.

“I grind the beans myself, right before I brew the coffee. I have a machine, my god brother recommended it to me.” 

“Well, I’ll have to come over some time, try this famous coffee.” 

“Yes!” Albus said, too brightly, too quickly. “And bring Scarlett!” he added hastily.

“Scarlett doesn’t like hot drinks,” Scorpius shrugged. “But she’s pretty busy these days anyway.” 

“Is she?” Albus said in a forced voice, pretending to care about Scarlett’s life instead of wishing she didn’t exist. 

“Yeah, she-“

“Shit!”

Albus’ box books had slipped from his grip and collapsed to the floor in a sprawling heap. Evidently, he’d not been concentrating on actually holding the box upright. He crouched down to gather them up as quickly as he could, noticing Scorpius has done the same thing. He straightened up, red-faced, most of the books clutched to his chest.

“Oops,” Scorpius said, handing over the books he’d picked up. The top one had a big crease on the cover where it had been dropped and bent back; Scorpius smoothed it back into place with his hand, bending it the opposite way expertly.

“Wow, thank you.” Albus tried not to notice how close to him Scorpius was standing. 

“No problem, I fix books all the time.” He shrugged then glanced down at the book in his hands. “What’s Reader’s Workshop?” 

“Reading comprehension,” Albus explained with a shrug. “Some basic text analysis and that sort of thing.”

“Sounds fun.” Scorpius flicked briefly through the book without really looking at it.

“It’s my favourite to teach.” Albus hesitated. “Hey, I didn’t realise you were thinking of doing a PGCE?” 

Scorpius frowned, looking confused. “Um, I’m not. I like working at the museum.” 

“Sorry, I thought Scarlett said you were. I must have misunderstood, sorry.” Albus was flustered by the conversation not going the way he thought it would. “Well, have a good Thursday, bye.”

He rushed off before Scorpius could say anything, praying he didn’t drop his books again. He heard Scorpius call vaguely after him to enjoy Reader’s Workshop but he was blushing too hard to turn around and acknowledge him. 

* * *

The weekend was temptingly close, just one more get up to go. Albus had plans to go Christmas shopping with Lily, which he knew would result in her trying to dress him up in all manner of ridiculous outfits she said were  _ very cool for a teacher.  _ The temperature had dropped considerably, there was a chance it was going to snow, and when Albus set foot into the warm hallway, his eye was immediately drawn to another bright pink sign on the notice board.

_ As a courtesy to your fellow residents, please refrain from bringing NOISY OUTSIDE VISITORS into the building. I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you all of the residents’ agreement you signed upon arrival. Section 4 (b) states that excessive noise after 9:30pm will not be tolerated.  _

“I told her to keep it down.” A sigh came from behind Albus and he looked around to see Scorpius reading over his shoulder.

“What is this about?”

Scorpius fixed him with a deadpan look. “You must have heard, last night. I  _ told  _ Scarlett.”

Albus felt his cheeks burn. He really didn’t want to talk about Scorpius’ escapades from the previous night, not least because his smart work trousers were on the tighter side. 

“Oh!” Albus squeaked. “Well, um-“

“I knew she’d forget,” Scorpius mused.

“Er, did you?” 

“Yeah, they both disappeared into her bedroom. I was making macarons and saw they’d left and the next thing I knew…” Scorpius smirked. 

Albus felt his heart swoop.  _ Both?  _

“You…” Albus didn’t know what to say.  _ You weren’t in there with her?  _ seemed a bit rude. 

“She’s got this new boyfriend and they’re very much in the honeymoon stage, you know? I’m glad she’s happy but, well, my macaron making is supposed to be innocent.” Scorpius looked a bit ticked off, as well he might. Scarlett and him had broken up and she already had a new boyfriend? Who she was bringing back to their shared flat? 

“I’m really sorry to hear that, Scorpius,” Albus said genuinely. 

“It’s okay, my macarons still turned out perfectly.” His eyes shone. “Would you like to try one?” 

“Not about the macarons, about Scarlett. That can’t be easy for you, her bringing a new boyfriend back to your flat.” 

Scorpius shrugged. “I say  _ new,  _ they’ve been dating something like four months. They got together before we moved in, she met him at her new job.” 

“But I thought-“ Albus stopped talking as soon as the knut dropped, but it was too late. 

“Hang on, Albus, did you think Scarlett was my  _ girlfriend?”  _ Scorpius was biting back laughter. 

Albus muttered that yes he did think that. 

“Oh Merlin, sorry, I wasn’t clear at all, was I? Scarly and I are best friends, nothing more.”

Albus choked on thin air and tried to think of something to say.

“Don’t worry,” Scorpius said airily. “It’s not the first time someone’s thought we were together.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Albus muttered. 

Scorpius leaned forward and lowered his voice slightly. “And I especially wouldn’t want  _ you  _ to think we were together.” 

Albus gaped at him. 

“Pop in for a macaron some time, if you want.” Scorpius waved, walked backwards for a few steps and headed for the stairs.

* * *

 

_ James: Running late  _

Albus glanced at his phone, feeling absolutely no hint of surprise at the information that his brother wasn’t going to be on time. He’d not rushed getting ready in the slightest, and was only now pulling his jeans on. They were his favourite: black, skinny and made by some designer which cost far too much money, but Albus didn’t think there was anything wrong with investing in  _ key wardrobe pieces  _ as Lily put it.

_ James: Tube is late _

Albus just laughed and tapped at his phone, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen and putting on some music. James was an abysmal liar, the tube was so frequent at this time of evening and he only lived eight stops up the Piccadilly line. 

_ James: on tube now _

Wondering how long his brother was going to keep up this running commentary, Albus opened the fridge and took out a beer. He rooted in the cutlery drawer for a bottle opener and cracked it open, his mind immediately flitting straight to Scorpius, as it had a lot over the past twenty-four hours. 

_ I especially wouldn’t want you to think we were together _ . 

That had to mean something, didn’t it? Albus wondered if he’d be brave enough to ask James if that counted as flirting, although he was risking James teasing him something chronic for the foreseeable future. But maybe it would put Albus‘ mind at rest, wondering if he should be reading into that. 

_ James: lol this guy on the train has a hat shaped like a hot dog _

_ James: I should get a hat like this _

_ James: could call it  _

_ James: a HAT dog _

But Albus really felt he should be reading into it. Scorpius had said he  _ especially  _ wouldn’t want Albus to think he had a girlfriend. He wanted Albus to think the opposite of him having a girlfriend. It seemed very promising. 

The only problem was, Albus didn’t have a clue what to do from here and instead had deliberately left work early today so as not to bump into Scorpius before he’d worked it all out. Now, he was dressed for going out with James and he could worry about it at the weekend.

_ James: off tube _

Albus took a sip of beer. 

_ Teddy: let me know when you and James are on the way _

_ James: in your building  _

He typed out a reply to Teddy and moments later, there was a knock at the door, as if James had sprinted from the tube to Albus’ flat. 

“Wahey!” James greeted as the door swung open. He clicked his fingers, pointed them at Albus and winked as he marched inside. He pulled open Albus’ fridge and removed two beers. “Want a beer?”

“Already started one, thanks.” Albus leaned against the kitchen counter. 

James took a swig of beer and looked Albus up and down. “I hope you’re wearing the early Christmas present I sent you specifically for tonight.” He winked and clicked his fingers again.

“What early Christmas present?” Albus put the spare beer back in the fridge when it became apparent James wasn’t going to.

“Should’ve arrived today, I sent it Amazon prime.” James pulled out his phone in record time and tapped at it a few times. “Yep, says it was delivered this afternoon.” 

Albus left James sipping his beer and checked the small stack of post he’d received that day, in case what James had sent was very small. He leafed past a Twinkl subscription leaflet, a letter from the NUT and an enveloped catalogue from The White Company, which was weird because Albus had never shopped there. 

He paused, turning the catalogue over to read the printed name on the back:  _ Mr S Malfoy _ . 

“Oh bloody hell.” 

“Did you not get it? Cost me £2.99 that did.” James appeared in the hall and looked a bit miffed then he spotted the catalogue in Albus’ hands, plucking it from his grasp. “Ooh get you! Shopping at The White Company now, are we?” 

“It’s not mine.” Albus went to grab it back then realised he was acting far too protective over the catalogue. 

“Whose is it then?” James turned the catalogue over. “ _ Mr S Malloy.” _

“It’s  _ Malfoy,” _ Albus quickly corrected without thinking. 

“Why you getting post for someone else?” James eyed him strangely over the catalogue. “And why are you acting so  _ weird  _ about it?” 

“He lives upstairs, number 21, the postman always mixes up our post…” Albus tailed off as a horrible thought occurred to him. “Oh shit. James,  _ what  _ did you send to me from Amazon?”

“Just a fun little present.” James smiled angelically; deceiving when his idea of a fun present was guaranteed to only be fun for James himself. 

“James, I’m serious. There’s a very good chance it’s gone to Scorpius.” He was having visions of some ridiculous and badly packaged sex toy turning up at Scorpius’ flat with his name on it. 

“Oh  _ Scorpius _ , is it?” James’ eyes glittered gleefully as he casually took a seat on the sofa. “Pray tell, Snekman, why does it matter if you and  _ Scorpius  _ have got each other’s post again?” 

“It doesn’t,” Albus muttered in annoyance. 

“Yes it does. Who is this  _ Scorpius  _ who shops at The White Company often enough to get the catalogue?”

“He’s just a guy who lives upstairs!” Albus protested. “I barely know him.” 

“But you’d like to get to know him.” James crossed his ankles on the coffee table  in total relaxation. 

“James, I just need to know, this thing you’ve sent me, it’s not obviously embarrassing, is it? Like from the outside?” 

James smirked. “Don’t worry, it’ll be packaged completely innocuously. I don’t want to get in the way of you and _ Scorpius.” _

Albus felt a jolt of panic go through him. “What is it, James?” 

“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” James folded his arms, “but I  _ suppose  _ I can show you.” He pulled his phone out again and tapped a few times before turning the screen around to show Albus. He peered at it through his glasses. 

“ _ Novelty Christmas Mistletoe Men’s Underwear.  _ Oh for fuck’s sake, James.” Albus stared in horror at the picture of the product: boxers with a picture of mistletoe over the crotch and large text reading  _ kiss me under the mistletoe.  _ “These have gone to Scorpius!”

“So? He’s not going to open them, is he?” James wiggled his eyebrows. “Maybe he’ll get to see them another way.”

“You are unbelievable.” Albus shook his head, feeling a blush rise at the idea of those pants even being in Scorpius’ flat. “Stay here, I’m going to get it back.”

He put his beer down and grabbed the White Company catalogue, going to step into his slippers, changing his mind at the last second and putting his nice leather brogues on instead. James watched him with a knowing look.

“You’re very  _ keen  _ to head up there.”

“I just don’t want those  _ things  _ up there any longer than they need to be. What if he has a badly behaved pet who chews them open? What if his roommate opens them by accident?” 

James just laughed and Albus rolled his eyes, putting the door on the latch and heading up the stairs, knocking on Scorpius’ door with the catalogue. 

“Albus!” Scorpius beamed and stepped back from the doorway. “You’re just in time, I needed a taste tester for this batch. Scarlett’s staying at Brad’s.” 

Any thoughts of just quickly checking about the package so as not to keep James waiting evaporated on the spot.

“Excellent, what flavour am I tasting?” 

Scorpius was wearing a red gingham apron and he had a smudge of icing sugar on his nose. In front of him was a batch of pale pink macarons. He delicately broke a small piece from one of them and - Albus nearly gasped out loud -  _ reached out to put it in Albus’ mouth.  _

“What does it taste like?”

Albus could barely concentrate on the flavour of the macaron, his mind still stuck firmly on Scorpius’ slender fingers delivering the sweet treat to him like that. He quickly tried to take note of what he could taste.

“Er, it’s sort of fruity, like a berry,” Albus chewed. “Very sweet. It’s lovely.”

“It’s champagne, strawberry and rose petal,” Scorpius explained, crinkling his nose in thought. 

“Rose, that’s what I can taste!” Albus exclaimed. 

“I can’t get the champagne flavour to stay through the baking.” Scorpius frowned. He reached behind him and pulled a bottle of champagne out, the cork missing. “Maybe this isn’t the right kind.” 

“Maybe.” Albus shrugged. 

Scorpius glanced at the bottle in his hand and then up at Albus. “Do you like champagne?” 

“Er, yeah, a bit,” Albus replied.

Scorpius was already reaching into a high cupboard, emerging with two champagne flutes. Of course he had proper champagne flutes and wasn’t just using normal wine glasses. He poured a little bit into each flute, waiting for the bubbles to die down before topping each one up. 

“You look like you’re heading out anyway.” Scorpius grinned.

It wasn’t until Scorpius went to hand him a glass of champagne that Albus realised he was still holding the White Company catalogue. He lay it flat on Scorpius’ breakfast bar and accepted the glass. 

Scorpius raised his. “To macarons.”

Albus clinked their glasses together and felt the bubbles gently fizz as he took a sip. “Do you, er, well, do you want to come out with me?” He blanched. “And my brother! My brother’s here and we’re going out and my god brother and my cousin are coming too and… we’re all going out, and do you want to come? Out? With me, and them?” 

“Out out?” Scorpius didn’t react to Albus’ embarrassing rambling. Albus nodded and Scorpius glanced down at himself. “I could get changed. Is that why you came up? To invite me out?” 

“Partly.” Albus shrugged and picked the catalogue up again. “Also, this is yours and I think something of mine got delivered to you again today. A parcel from Amazon prime?” 

Recognition flashed across Scorpius’ face. “That was for you?” He frowned.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.”

“I thought it was  _ from  _ you!” Scorpius had turned pink and he hurried out into the hall, returning with a small brown cardboard box covered in blue tape printed with  _ Amazon prime.  _ He thrust it into Albus’ hands and pointed to the address label. 

_ To: Snekman _

_ From: your favourite Potter _

“I don’t know any other Potters,” Scorpius said in a very small voice. “My name’s such an autocorrect victim.  _ Snekman,  _ wouldn’t be the worst.” 

With a sickening feeling, Albus noticed that the tape on the top of the box had been cut through. Scorpius had opened it. He’d opened this gift thinking Albus had sent it to him. 

“ _ Snekman  _ is you?” Scorpius asked when Albus couldn’t speak, still in that small voice. He sounded disappointed. 

“My brother… calls me Snekman. Long story,” Albus mumbled.

“It’s from your brother, because he’s a Potter too. It’s just a joke.” Scorpius handed the box over. “Sorry.” 

“Did you see what was inside?” Albus tried to catch Scorpius’ eye and laugh, but he was staring resolutely at the floor. 

“Yes,” he squeaked at the carpet. “I thought it was… I thought you were… never mind.” He rushed away and went back to his macarons, straightening them all unnecessarily on the plate. 

“You thought I was  _ what?”  _ Albus followed him in desperation. “Scorpius, did you  _ want  _ me to send you joke underwear?” 

Scorpius had taken his apron off and he was folding it, smoothing each crease between his fingers. “I thought it was your way of saying you, you know, liked me.” He spoke very evenly, looking only at the apron he was folding. 

“Oh.” Albus let his hands fall to his sides, the Amazon box clattering against his leg. 

“I think I’ll stay in tonight, have another go at this recipe,” Scorpius said quietly. “Have fun with your brother.” 

“Wait, Scorpius,” Albus took a step closer to him and breathed deeply to clear his head a bit. “I do.” 

“You do?”

Albus took a shaky breath. “I do like you.” 

A small smile spread across Scorpius’ lips.

“I really do, I like you quite a lot. I’m not very good at flirting, and I thought you were with Scarlett for ages, but I do like you. I didn’t know how to really go about showing you. Believe me, this wouldn’t have been my chosen method.” He held up the Amazon box with a grin. 

Scorpius’ whole demeanour had lightened up. “Now is a good time to tell you that I like you too.” Albus couldn’t help beaming from ear to ear at this news and Scorpius noticed because he did the same and stepped forward. “I don’t have any mistletoe, but…”

Hardly believing this turn of events, Albus mirrored Scorpius as he leaned in over the plate of macarons. He closed his eyes, savouring the moment, and he shivered when Scorpius’ soft lips met his. His whole body seemed to tingle as their kiss deepened and Albus steadied himself by wrapping an arm around Scorpius’ waist. He dropped the ridiculous Amazon box to the floor and allowed his other hand to snake around Scorpius’ shoulders, just as Scorpius took hold of Albus and brought them closer together. 

Albus sighed against Scorpius’ lips as he felt Scorpius’ slender fingers sift through the back of his hair, making his scalp tingle pleasantly. Scorpius gently ran the tip of his tongue over Albus’ lips and Albus parted them immediately, allowing Scorpius access. They continued to kiss, Albus feeling like time was simultaneously standing still and rushing past; the feeling of Scorpius’ lips on his was unreal. 

Eventually, they pulled away, grinning stupidly at each other in the wake of what they’d just done. 

“That was nice,” Scorpius commented, as casually as if he were discussing a sandwich he’d once eaten. 

“Yeah, it was,” Albus agreed, not taking his eyes off Scorpius’.

“I’m glad we worked it out, Scarly’s going to be thrilled.” Scorpius let out a short breath of laughter. “She’s been trying to encourage me to make a move on you for ages.”

“And there was me, thinking she was your girlfriend.” Albus shook his head. 

“I told her about that conversation, and how you’d thought she was my girlfriend the whole time. She said I was  _ utterly hopeless  _ but that it explained why you hadn’t been flirting back with me.” 

Albus shrugged. “I thought you were just a very flirty person,” he laughed, “with a girlfriend.” 

“Bit of an oversight on my part. Note to self, Scorpius, do not allow crush to think you are in a heterosexual relationship with somebody else.” He mimed writing a note on the palm of his hand.

“You’re such a dork,” Albus chuckled without thinking. Then he froze; he and Scorpius didn’t speak to each other like that, they barely even knew each other. 

Scorpius blinked then he smirked. “Well you’re a hot mess, with your giant pile of books and lack of umbrella.”

“Touché,” Albus chuckled. 

“Actually I, er, got you a present too. Merry early Christmas.” He walked a few steps away and came back to hand Albus a small box wrapped neatly in newspaper. “I don’t use wrapping paper. Sorry it’s not addressed to Snekman, but it is from your favourite Malfoy.”

Albus laughed and undid the paper to reveal a box of  _ Beard Baubles _ : small, colourful decorations with hooks to hang all over his beard. 

“Amazing, and I didn’t get you anything!” 

“Yes you did.” Scorpius picked up the Amazon box with a snort of laughter. 

“You can keep those, Merry Christmas.” 

Without even thinking, Albus leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Scorpius’ lips. It felt like such a natural thing to do, but Albus suddenly panicked he was being too presumptuous.

“Merry Christmas.”

Fortunately, Scorpius was smiling widely at what Albus had done. They stood staring at one another, both breathing heavily. Then a sharp rap on the door interrupted the moment.

“Are you still coming out, Snekman? I called a taxi.” 

“Come out with us?” Albus suggested, taking hold of Scorpius’ hand and lacing their fingers together. 

“Love to,” Scorpius breathed, squeezing Albus’ hand. 

Albus looked at him, taking in his rumpled blond hair falling softly over one eye, a slight wave to it. He was beautiful as far as Albus was concerned, and he couldn’t quite believe things had turned out the way they had. His luck seemed to be on the up and he hoped it continued that way.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Mavis, I hope you liked it❤️Merry Christmas everyone! Thanks to Kat for talking ideas with me and coming up with Snekman!  
> Tumblr: littlerose13writes  
> Twitter: littlerose13_


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